


Requiem

by engagemythrusters



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Episode: s01e13 The Parting of the Ways, Game Station, M/M, Satellite 5 (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness died on Satellite Five and woke to find someone he had never seen before in his life.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 11
Kudos: 171





	Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was supposed to be written over a year ago. Better late than never, I guess?

It took a lot for Jack to admit he was afraid. More than losing his memories. More than children in gas masks. More than Slitheen, or killer makeover robots, or even Daleks. More than the thought of losing the small shreds of humanity he'd found with the Doctor and Rose. Well, maybe then, but... nothing more than death. Death scared him witless.

He was scared now. He was _dead_ now. 

Nothing made sense. He couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe, not in death, but something was around his chest, around his neck, dragging everything he was from him. It hurt. Everything hurt. 

"Stop," he gasped, "please. Stop."

He didn't know what he was pleading with. Whatever deity ruled the afterlife, he supposed. 

Was this an afterlife, anyway? What constituted an afterlife? He had never decided if he believed in an afterlife or the blank darkness of absolute nothing, but this was... this _Was_. By some loose and indistinguishable definition, he Existed. Somehow. Somewhere. For some reason. 

The panic seeped upwards, intent on consuming him. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself, but since he still couldn't breathe, it was pointless. So he closed his eyes (also pointless—there hadn't been anything to see, anyway), and relaxed to the best of his abilities. 

He thought of the Doctor for a moment. Rose was safe somewhere, somewhen. But the Doctor was still fighting, back on the Game Station. Or so Jack hoped. God, he very much hoped the Doctor was still alright. If not... what would become of him? Jack didn't want to think about it. It didn't help him not panic. 

"Are you taking a nap?"

Jack's eyes shot back open, startled. Was he not the only person here? He turned around to see. Or... maybe not around. There seemed to be no direction here.

Also, there was a Here now. Bright, brilliant, and incomprehensible. Everywhere around him, all the places he looked. If Here had places, anyway. It was all the same, no matter which way he turned. Was he even turning? Here was too unfathomable for him to wrap his mind around.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

And Jack found him. Jack didn't know how, because to Jack, it was like he'd been staring at the same spot the entire time, but suddenly, the man hadn't been there, and then... he had been. Just like Jack, he Was. 

"What..." Jack breathed, because he found he could breathe again. 

"What's wrong?" the man asked, frowning. 

Jack just stared at him, trying to comprehend. 

Light swathed the man, forming an indistinguishable sort of barrier that distinguished him from the rest of Here. He wore clothes that reminded Jack of his time on Earth, back during the Blitz. Pinstriped waistcoat and trousers. Tie. Pale shirt, with the collar framing a beautiful face with blue eyes and brown hair. Jack tried to fathom all of this at once, but it seemed as nebulous as Here. For a moment, Jack wondered if he was an angel, but then remembered he didn't believe in such things. 

"Did you get shot in the head again?" the man asked him after he'd stared for long enough (if "long" was a concept that existed Here—time could be as vacant as direction). "You said you'd try to stop that. Always leaves you confused."

"What... who?" Jack tried again. 

"God, you're worse off than usual," the man said. "The time you got poisoned and bashed over the head with a rock wasn't even as bad as this. At least then you smiled."

Jack, tried to smile for the man, for some reason desperate to appease him, but the man just frowned.

"No, something's very wrong," the man muttered, seemingly to himself. "You're not you."

Within a second, the confusion and anxiety finally caught up to Jack, souring into frustration. 

"What do you mean, I'm not me?" he snapped. "Of course I'm me!"

"Something's wrong," the man just repeated. "Did you lose more memories?"

Jack froze for a beat, momentarily terrified at the thought. Then he mentally shook himself. 

"No," he said, glaring at the man. 

"Right, then, what's the last thing you remember?" the man asked.

"Flirting with Death and a Dalek." Jack folded his arms. Well, maybe he did, or maybe he didn't. He still couldn't understand the actions of Here. "Who the hell are you?"

The man opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. He stared at Jack for a long while (at least, it _felt_ that way). He looked sad, Jack thought.

"You don't remember," the man said softly. "Or you don't know. I'm not... I'm not sure which is worse. Well, no, forgetting is worse, but..."

He fell silent again, eyeing Jack more.

"You do look younger," he eventually said. "Something about the hair. And around the eyes."

"Okay," Jack said, his anger growing the longer he went without answers. "What the hell is going on? Who are you? Where am I?"

The man just gazed on solemnly.

"Tell me!" Jack demanded.

"You're dead, Jack," the man said in sombre tones. "For the first time, you're dead."

Jack didn't say anything, at first. Things kept running through his head. Because he knew he was dead. He died. The Dalek zapped him, and then he ceased to live. But it didn't make sense, because he Was, and when someone's dead... they Weren't. And what had the man meant, "for the first time?" Nothing. He couldn't have meant anything. Nobody died more than once, not like this.

"What's..." Jack asked when words found his mouth again. "How can..."

"I'm so sorry," the man offered, and that was all.

Jack's mind whirled and stilled at the same time. Every thought and none ran through his head. He felt a strange sort of calm. Or maybe it was more of a resigned acceptance. 

"Who are you?" Jack asked once more.

"My name is Ianto Jones," said the man, "and I love you."

Jack studied the man, this Ianto Jones.

"Do I love you?"

Ianto Jones smiled, sad and understanding. "Not yet, I shouldn't think."

"Will I love you?" he then asked, because time travel worked that way, sometimes, and because he forgot to factor out death in the grand scheme of things.

"I would hope so," Ianto Jones said, smile resolving into something more real. "Otherwise, I've been wasting the last good one hundred and ninty thousand years of my death following you around."

"But..."

Ianto shook his head before Jack could finish thinking his thought. "Doesn't matter. Not now, anyway."

"Why am I here?" Jack asked instead. "Where _is_ here?"

"Here," Ianto Jones said, "is death. Your death. Always."

"Then why are you here?" Jack asked. "If this is my death, and you're dead..."

Ianto Jones shrugged. "You're special."

Jack frowned, and Ianto Jones laughed. He had a nice laugh, Jack thought.

"No, I figured that wouldn't work," Ianto Jones said, sobering. "You never do think highly enough about yourself."

Jack opened his mouth to show just how highly he could think of himself, but Ianto Jones cut him off automatically.

"Don't. We both know you're faking it."

Jack closed his mouth again, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"You never think enough about yourself where it counts," Ianto Jones amended. "I'll never understand why. You're a good man, even if you refuse to see it. I've always seen it. Even when I didn't want to, I saw it."

And Jack wondered what he'd done to trick this man, what con he'd used to gather such devotion and loyalty from Ianto Jones.

"Stop it," Ianto Jones said, giving him an unimpressed look. "Stop thinking."

"You'd rather me not think at all?"

Ianto Jones rolled his eyes. "Good to know you were this cheeky even back then, sir."

"'Sir?'" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ianto Jones smirked. "You'll understand someday."

"How long?" escaped unbidden from Jack's lips.

"'How long?'" Ianto Jones repeated, frowning.

"How long until someday?"

The face of Ianto Jones smoothed into something almost a touch melancholy.

"I can't tell you," Ianto Jones said gently. 

"Will I know you then?"

"No."

"Then why can't you tell me?" Jack demanded.

"You know it doesn't work like that."

He reached out to Jack, brushing an ethereal hand across Jack's face. Or he sort of did. And sort of didn't. Either way, it sent shivers down Jack's spine.

"You have to go back now," Ianto Jones whispered. "She's calling you back. I can feel it."

"Go back where?" Jack asked. "Who's 'she?' How do you know?"

"I'm sorry," was all Ianto Jones said. 

"Sorry for what?" Jack searched the man's face for answers when he gave none. 

"You have a long road ahead of you," Ianto Jones said. "And it's going to hurt. All of it. But it'll be worth it, sometimes. I promise."

"What's happening?" Jack asked as he felt a pulling sensation around his chest. "What's going on?"

"I'll see you again someday," Ianto Jones said. "Good luck, sir."

"What's happening to me?" Jack yelled, because Here was fading out of sight. He felt like he was choking on water, like he was burning on coals and being dragged across broken glass. It was utter agony.

"I love you."

Jack wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He was suspended in darkness. There was nothingness all around him, entombing him and asphyxiating him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe—

 _"I bring life,"_ someone whispered to him. Rose?

He took a big inhale in, and, for the very first time, woke up from death.

* * *

Captain Jack Harkness blinked his eyes open, taking a moment to orient himself. It would be a lot more helpful if there were things to orient himself with, he supposed. As it was, waiting it out would have to do. Oh, he hated dying from blood loss. Never a good revival. And always a shit clean up afterwords. 

"Oh," a voice said, "you're Here."

Jack grinned. "Of course I'm Here. Where else would I go?"

Ianto kissed him (sort of, it was always a "sort of" Here). Jack shivered appreciatively. 

"Did you miss me?" Jack asked when Ianto drew back. 

"Very hard to," Ianto said calmly, "as I just saw you."

Jack frowned at him.

"But how?" he asked. "It's been over a month."

"Well, first of all, like I keep telling you," Ianto said, and Jack rolled his eyes, "time doesn't work like that Here."

"I know that," Jack said, exasperated. 

"Second," Ianto said, then faltered. 

"What?" 

"Well, it wasn't... you..." he said slowly. "Not... not really."

"If it wasn't me, then who was it?"

"No, it _was_ you, it just wasn't _you_."

"Ianto, you aren't making sense," Jack told him. 

"You're in the year 200,100, right?" 

"Yes," Jack said. "How did you know?"

"You just died," Ianto said. "For the first time."

Jack blinked.

"Oh," he said.

"Yes."

_"Oh."_

Ianto nodded. He observed Jack carefully. Jack just tried to wrap his head around it.

"Wait," he said, frowning. "How did he see you?"

"I don't know," Ianto said.

"It took me _years_ to figure out there was someone in the darkness with me," Jack said, "and many years more to finally figure out I could just..."

He trailed his fingers up Ianto's arm.

"...turn on the light to find you," he finished, cupping a hand around Ianto's cheek. 

"Maybe it's the timezone," Ianto considered. "You're both in the year 200,100. He could be benefiting off your ability to... find me, I suppose."

"Can that happen?" Jack asked. 

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Hm," Jack mused. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter how it happened. What's done is done."

"How wise of you, sir," Ianto deadpanned. 

Jack ignored the sarcasm.

"What did you say to me?" Jack asked Ianto, running fingers through Ianto's celestial hair. "To the other me, I mean?"

"I told him I loved him," Ianto said.

Jack nodded. "That's always good to hear."

"It's true," Ianto said. "I do. And I will. Always."

Jack kissed him again, thriving in the otherworldly shudders the closeness brought. 

"I also told him," Ianto said when they broke apart, "that I couldn't tell him when I'd see him again. He was rather distraught about that."

"Can't blame him," Jack laughed. "I mean, if I was told I couldn't see the most captivating man I'd ever met for a long and unknown stretch of time, I'd be pretty upset, too."

"You can't use an analogy on yourself when this is already about yourself," Ianto pointed out. "And I hardly think I qualify as the 'most captivating man you had ever met.'"

"Don't count yourself short, Jones, Ianto Jones," Jack said.

"I told you the same thing. The other you. You made a glib comment."

"I bet I did."

"Then you started to fade out again, so... well, I told you life would be shit, basically."

"What a way to send me off," Jack said dryly.

"I felt I had to warn you," Ianto said. "It was a fair call on my part."

"I never remembered," Jack said. "I wish I did. I would've liked to have known you."

Ianto shook his head. "Going in circles, Jack. Like I said, I couldn't tell him when he'd see me again. You couldn't have known."

"Why not?" Jack asked, pressing his forehead to Ianto's, revelling in the unearthly chills it gave him. "I could've found you sooner."

"You're the ex-Time Agent," Ianto said. "You figure it out."

Jack sighed. "Sometimes, I hate time."

"You hate paradoxes even more."

"You're worthy of a paradox or two," Jack said with a smile.

"I am not and you know it."

Jack felt a sudden slight tug around his chest.

"I'm fading back," he said. 

"I know," Ianto said.

They stood together for a moment longer, just holding each other's sort-of bodies. Then Jack let go and stood up straight.

"I bled out," he told Ianto.

Ianto grimaced. 

"Don't know if the revival or the clean up is worse," Jack remarked with a frown.

"Not comparable," Ianto told him. 

"Suppose not." The tugging around his chest and throat strengthened. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Ianto said. "I'll see you again... hopefully not too soon."

Jack was sure his breath wouldn't hold out for an inappropriate comment about hoping it _was_ soon, so he just winked instead. Ianto rolled his eyes fondly, and that was the last thing he saw before he faded out of Here.

He revived in excruciating, confusing pain, like he always did, but also with a warm sense of familiarity and love, knowing that somewhere out there in the universe, Ianto Jones was watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully... this one was good? I might add extra chapters (or make it into a series?) someday, so possibly keep an eye out for those!  
> Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day!


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